On grandparents

“We’re going to be famous,” my grandmother said as we walked down Library Lawn. It was a few hours before the UVA game. My grandparents were excited to visit me on campus for the first time. 

As we walked, our conversation turned to this column. I still hadn’t decided what I was writing about for this week. My grandfather pitched the title “On grandparents.” I liked his idea, so this one’s for you Gigi and Papa. Thanks for visiting. 

When I decided to attend Notre Dame in April of last year, my grandparents bought football tickets for the last home game of the year. Throughout my three-ish months here, many of my friends have had family and siblings visit for extended periods. With my sister starting high school back home, my grandparents were my only scheduled visitors. 

They have lived in the Midwest before, but have since moved back to my hometown. They live about fifteen minutes away from me, and their house served as a gathering place during my childhood. We are very close, having spent many special occasions exchanging gifts and sharing meals.

My grandmother is a short woman (like most on my mother’s side), though she is one of the funniest people on the planet, and always has a pin or accessory to match any occasion. She spent decades as an ER nurse and even longer in the medical field, so she is unfazed by most things in this world. She was not fond of walking, but she was in awe of the many places that I have come to find normal on this campus. 

My grandfather is about my height with the frame of an experienced distance runner, having spent decades running marathons and triathlons. He is full of grandfatherly witticisms, often bantering with my grandmother. He also has a really good nose, which may seem like a strange compliment, but it was rebuilt in surgery after a car accident decades ago. Ironically, the nurse that assisted in the rebuild was my grandmother (before they met). She did a good job. 

When it was time for them to visit, I was elated to have new people to show around campus. It was also an opportunity for some bonding time, the last of which happened over fall break. My grandfather had visited once before, but this was my grandmother’s first time. On Friday and Saturday, we completed the traditional “bucket list.” We ate on Eddy Street, visited the bookstore, walked through the Basilica, saw the football players enter for pre-game Mass, snapped a picture in front of Touchdown Jesus and had a variety of other fun excursions. 

We also took time to talk and catch up. My grandparents are both blessed with being funny people with good laughs, so they are always easy to talk to. We talked a lot about home. Someone’s getting married, and someone’s having another kid. Some relatives are facing health complications, and even more are in need of prayers. I also answered their questions about what it was like to live here. My grandmother asked about the tents on South Quad, and wanted to know the names of the buildings. They saw where I live, and I pointed out where everyone else lived, too.

We spent time in the Basilica, where I pointed out little details I had noticed from my time working at Mass. We visited the Grotto, where my grandmother said a prayer. We couldn’t light candles, as the line included nearly every visitor on campus that weekend. I pointed out the Log Chapel, and we all admired the dull glow of the Golden Dome under the permacloud. 

I don’t take having my grandparents in my life for granted, especially when many of my friends lost theirs during childhood. In other cases, their grandparents were so old they could not spend two days walking around a college campus. My grandmother always expressed gratitude for this while we traversed Disney World on a family vacation in a sea of mobility scooters. My grandfather still walks six miles a day. 

It wasn’t until their visit that I realized how much I missed them. They are much more than a reminder of where I come from, but a reminder of who came before me. They helped make it possible for me to attend in the first place.

I strive to make them proud, even if we are far apart. I miss them already, and I look forward to seeing them soon. It wasn’t the conversations or the walks that made that weekend worth it. It was their presence. It was being around two people I love and care about, both of whom have made sacrifices and worked for decades to give their children and grandchildren better lives than they had. I had a lot of fun, Gigi and Papa. See you in a few weeks.